


The Many Lives of Will Hillam

by mirkandmidnight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, My main character is dead, Reconciliation, Redemption, References to Drugs, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Most Things, The Author Regrets Nothing, a big one, that's a plot point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a testament to how strange his life was becoming that being dead didn't even surprise him anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Many Lives of Will Hillam

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing and everything simultaneously.

The first life of Will Hillam lasted eighteen years, ten weeks, four days, nine hours, and twenty-three seconds. It ended when his car skidded out of control on slippery roads coming back from a party on Thursday, May 22nd, 2014 at 11:54 pm.

The second life of Will Hillam began on May 22nd, 2014, at 11:55 pm. He twitched, sucked in a breath, then peeled himself off the asphalt, fifty feet away from the mangled wreck of his car. Will stood up and looked down, scrubbing at the grit on his face with the back of his hand. Lying on the pavement was someone of his build, with the same hair, and wearing the same clothes. He reared back. “What?” The exclamation escaped him against his will. “Whoa.”

Will paced a circle, inspecting the body. He knelt next to it and poked at the body’s jaw, trying to get a good look at the face. The head moved and he froze in shock. It was him. “Am I-” he started, but stopped mid sentence. Will looked at his hands, then back down at the other him on the ground. “Oh my god.”

He got to his feet, hands shaking, at about the time that Amelia Williams, the sixty-three year old widowed resident of 2241 County Road K, made it out to the roadside, her flashlight cutting a beam of light through the gloom. Her flashlight lit on Will’s body, and a strangled scream escaped her. She dropped the flashlight and it rolled on the pavement, sending crazed beams of light flashing everywhere. Mrs. Williams ran towards Will’s body, her face a mask of horror. Will waved a hand at her, attempting to get her attention. “Hello?” he said. “Can you hear me?” He stepped into her path, and she dashed right through him. The sensation was uncomfortable, like someone had doused him with cold water.

Will whirled around and stared. How had that happened? What was going on? He wasn’t...dead, was he? He couldn’t be.

Ten minutes and forty-two seconds after Mrs. Amelia Williams phoned 911, an ambulance arrived on the scene. The paramedics piled out of it in droves and huddled around Will’s body, muttering to themselves. “Jesus,” one of them said. “When’ll these damn kids ever learn?”

They loaded his body into the ambulance and drove off, not even turning the siren on. As Will watched them drive away, a light rain began to fall. By that time it was 12:06 am on May 23rd, 2014, and life as Will Hillam knew it had changed forever.

When he arrived home an hour later, drenched from the rain and exhausted, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Certainly no one was going to open the door at this hour, and even if they did, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t see him. So, he ended up sitting on the doorstep until the next morning when his younger sister Natalie opened the door to get the newspaper. Guilt welled up in him. It was his turn this week to get the paper.

She scowled at the step and for a second, Will almost thought she could see him. He leapt to his feet. “Nat! Hey, Natalie-” But she snatched up the newspaper and walked back into the house, leaving the door wide open.

Will walked in just as Natalie turned back, hissing, “Ah, crap,” under her breath, and slammed the door shut. She walked back down the hall and into the kitchen, Will following close behind her. Natalie tossed it onto the polished wooden counter, saying, “It’s in the papers,” and perching on one of the chairs. The newspaper landed with a dull thud of resounding finality. She folded her arms and stared down their father. “Well?” she said. “Aren’t you going to read the article?”

Dad, no, Robert, for this man was nothing like his father, who was a warm, kind man, not this statue staring into space. Robert shoved the newspaper back towards her and rested his head in his hands, and Mom looked at Natalie with dark circles shadowing her eyes. “Please, Natalie,” she said. “Your father doesn’t want to read that right now. Why don’t you go and call up a friend?”

“Hello?” Will said, but no one responded.

Natalie tilted her head. “Oh, I’ve heard from all the kids at school. They’re all so sorry,” here she made air quotes, “about my poor brother. Such a pity. Such a shame.” She paused. “You know, I don’t think any one of them gives a shit about me.”

“I’m literally standing right here, listening to you people talk about me dying. Talk about trippy.”

“That’s no way to talk,” Mom said, folding her hands in her lap.

“Just so we’re clear, none of you can see or hear me.” No one responded. “I think I’m going to take that as a yes,” Will muttered.

She laughed, but it came out as a harsh, hateful sound. “My older brother just died, I think I have the right to show a little anger.”

“This isn’t about you,” Robert grated, his knuckles turning white.

Natalie threw up her hands and stood. “It never is!” Her hand went to her forehead for a moment, then she balled her hands up in fists and stormed out of the kitchen, walking right through where Will stood in the doorway. Again he felt the cold water sensation, and she stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to her room behind her.

Robert released his death grip on the edge of the table and lifted his head. “You could have been a little easier on her, Robert,” Mom said. Robert didn’t say a word, so his mother continued. “I know you and Will were very close, but-“

His father slammed a fist down on the table, making his mother jump. “I don’t ever want to hear his name spoken in this house again,” he said. Robert stood up and started towards the door, passing the piano, which was lined with family pictures. A snapshot of all of them in front of the Washington Monument. A photo of his parents’ wedding. And two pictures, one of Natalie and one of Will. Robert paused next to the piano and stared at Will’s photo for a long moment before flipping it so it was face down. He shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

Mom watched him go, then stood and began washing the dishes.

Will was floored. His name was now banned in the house? Sure, he’d done a few things he wasn’t proud of (in hindsight, having that beer before he drove home probably hadn’t been the best decision), but really? It wasn’t as if he was some kind of criminal.

Ten minutes later, the door slammed shut as Robert went to work and Mom went to visit with Aunt Clara, muttering something about having to talk to her sister and make the arrangements. She left the dishes unwashed in the sink. Natalie drove herself to school, leaving Will alone in the house. Well. As long as he had the place alone, he might as well figure out what he could do. It was clear no one could see or hear him, and given that people kept walking through him, it didn’t seem like he had a physical form.

Will walked over to the sink and poked at the counter. Okay, so he could still feel things. But could he interact with them? He reached for the dish soap and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, then wrapped his fingers around it. His eyes flew open as he set it down and picked it up again. “Well, that was kind of anticlimactic,” he said. So was he just invisible to other people? And how long was he going to be here? Was this all there was after death? Will sank into the sofa and rested his head in his hands. Was he going to be stuck here forever, forced to watch as all the reminders of his existence disappeared?

Will paused, then walked over to the piano and set the picture of himself back up. His lips curled into a wicked grin. If the world seemed insistent on leaving him behind, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He messed up the house for the rest of the day, putting the salt and pepper shakers under the bathroom sink, putting the toilet paper in the fridge, and printing out pictures of Nicolas Cage and taping them all around the house. There wasn’t any reason he couldn’t have a little fun, was there?

At 3:48, Natalie stormed into the house and into the living room, passing Will, who was perched on the kitchen counter, surveying his handiwork. “Hey, Nat-a-tat-tat,” he called. No response. Really, Will didn’t know what he was expecting.

Natalie flung her backpack down and flopped into the couch with a heavy sigh, pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times. Will hopped off the counter and walked up behind her. He leaned on the back of the couch and read over her shoulder as she looked through her texts. 

“Ooooh, has Natalie got a boyfriend?” Will singsonged, then went back to reading the texts over her shoulder. “She dooooooes! Well, he’d better take good care of my baby sister!” He dropped the high pitched voice, then looked at the contact name and grimaced. “Jesus, Nat, you’re going out with that stoner kid? Jackson? Really? What would Mom and Robert think?” Will paused and thought for a moment. “Well, Robert’s got it in for me, so I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

Natalie shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch. Will looked at her for a moment before leaning forward and blowing on the back of her neck. Natalie shivered. He reached out with one finger and tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around and seemed to be looking right at him for a moment. Will froze, wide eyed. “Hello?” she said.

“Natalie?”

“Is someone there?”

“Did you feel that?”

“I think I’m losing it,” she muttered, then turned around and went back to looking at her phone.

“Yes!” Will crowed, then stood up straight and started dancing around the living room. He began laughing out of control, waving his arms and dancing around. Until, of course, he tripped on the edge of the carpet and went down with a crash, taking down a vase of flowers. “Ouch,” he said, and picked himself up, brushing shards of glass from his clothes.

Natalie shot to her feet at the crash and her eyes lit on the broken vase. “What the hell?” She groaned and started cleaning it up, brushing the pieces of glass into her hands and carrying them over to the trash can.

“Oops,” Will said.  
***  
So, as it turned out, going to your own funeral was incredibly weird. Not only did Will have to listen to Father McGonagall drone on and on about how “beautifully short” his life was and how “he was in a better place” and “no longer suffering here on Earth”, but looking at his own body was making him kind of queasy.

About a third of the people in his grade were there, including stupid Kyle Johnson, who had thrown the party. Will wondered if he felt responsible for what had happened. Probably not, since it was a common rumor that Kyle hadn’t felt anything since the 4th grade. Still, it was nice to think.

The service ended at last, and people began to file out in droves. Will got closer to a group of kids about his own age and listened in on their whispered conversation.

“I heard he was drunk when it happened,” one of the girls said.

The other one shook her head. “Nuh uh, I heard he was high as a kite.”

And of course, since he was dead, he couldn’t very well tell them that no, he hadn’t been high, and really, he’d only had the one beer before leaving, honest to god. Will took solace in flicking one of their ears and enjoying her ensuing shriek of surprise. 

By the end of the funeral lunch, Will had heard at least ten different rumors about his death, including that he was drunk, high, he’d had a seizure, an allergy attack, a deer ran out in front of his car, he killed himself, he was texting, and a plethora of others along that line.

Dying in such a public way was so undignified. And why were they having the funeral in a church? His family wasn’t at all religious. Will was almost sure Natalie was having a field day with this whole affair. If it had been up to him, this whole thing would have been completely different. For one, the music playing from the speakers wouldn’t be jazz. Who even liked jazz?

Funerals weren’t even an honest portrayal of the living, Will reflected. They were more a way to try and paint a more blasé picture, one last ditch effort at achieving respectability. Not that it ever worked. No matter what McGonagall said, or who he actually was, he’d still be remembered as that kid who got killed driving home drunk.

Looking through the crowd of people in the parking lot, Will spotted his family heading for their car. He switched to a brisk walk in their direction, trying to catch up. He didn’t want to walk home again.  
***  
Someone had put his picture face down again. Will sighed and flipped it up again, picking out a minor chord on the piano as he walked away. No one seemed to notice anything he did, so why not? It wasn’t as if he was just wandering around his house, invisible to everyone, hoping for someone, anyone, to notice he was still here.

Oh, wait. He was.

Will sat down on the sofa and stared out the window, then jumped up as his mom and Natalie entered the room, arguing. Christ, why were Natalie and their parents always arguing? It had grated on his nerves enough when he was alive, and he didn’t fancy an eternity of listening them fighting.

“I just don’t understand why you feel compelled to act out like this,” Mom said, gesturing with one hand. “I mean, honestly, Natalie, why did you think putting the salt and pepper under the bathroom sink was a good thing to do?”

Natalie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t do it, I really don’t know why that’s so hard to believe.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think your father or I would do something like that? I’m not even going to ask about the toilet paper in the refrigerator. We don’t ask for that much, do we? Just that you do your part in the family.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, I don’t get much out of this either, do I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natalie bit her lip. “Nothing. Just saying that I’m not rolling in heaps of parental affection over here. Neither of you seem to care what I do. And jeez, you’re always yelling at me for crap I don’t even do.”

Will laughed under his breath. “Totally didn’t mean to get you in trouble for that, sis.” He backed out of the room, making sure to be as quiet as possible, muttering, “Not getting in the middle of this, no thank you.”

Mom sat down. “Look, honey, I realize that the past couple of days have been hard for all of us, especially your father, and I just need you to be patient. We’re trying to work through this.”

“It’s not just been the past few days, Mom. It’s been pretty much forever. Neither of you ever paid attention to me, it’s always been Will this, and Will that, and I’m just sick of it.” She unfolded her arms and stared down at her shoes. “I have a boyfriend. Did you even know about that?”

Mom didn’t respond for a second. When she did, she quirked an eyebrow and smiled at Natalie. “I’m glad for you, Natalie. Are you being safe?”

Natalie’s expression went from irritated to horrified in the blink of an eye. “Ew! Mom! Why would you even ask that?”

Mom tapped her foot on the tile. “I know you skipped out of every sex education lecture they taught at school. I know you, honey.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

“Listen, Natalie, I know your father’s been a little...well, difficult the last few days, but don’t you worry about that. I’m going to work on him.” She straightened a few magazines on the table and stood. Mom smiled and placed a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “You know I love you, right?”

Natalie smiled in return. “Yeah, I guess I do.”  
***  
But that night? Well, that was when things got a little hairy. After an interesting family dinner, (Will was laying on his bed on the other side of the house and could still hear the shouting) he heard Natalie creeping up the stairs to her room and decided to see what was going on.

Will got off his bed and walked down the hall to the dining room, where Mom and Robert were shouting over uneaten plates of lasagna. 

“You can’t just pretend he never existed, Robert,” Mom snapped. “You can’t cut him out of our lives. Don’t think I haven’t seen you, putting away all the photo albums, getting rid of things from his room when you think I’m not looking.”

Robert set down his fork. “What do I have to do, Karen, ask permission every time I move something around?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. He’s my son too. I’ve got as much a right to remember him as you do.” Mom picked up her plate and began scraping the remnants of food into the trash with more force than was strictly necessary.

Robert propped his elbow on the table and used it as leverage to hold up his head. “I don’t want to talk about him, Karen.”

She put her hands on her hips and turned. “Will’s not just going to go away because you refuse to acknowledge his existence.” Will nodded from the corner, eyes fixed on the pair of them.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please. I’m not asking very much, am I?”

Will tilted his head to one side, curious. “Doesn’t seem like much to you, does it? Just, forgetting I was ever here?”

She huffed. “It wouldn’t be, except I just had a conversation with Natalie, and I don’t think we’ve done our best for her. We always focused on him and she feels like she’s been left behind.”

“She’s always been fine. Natalie never needed the help.”

Will looked downwards. “Don’t I matter?”

The plate clattered into the sink, almost breaking. “She did need the help, and we weren’t around to give it to her. Think what you will, but we’ve got a lot to make up to our daughter.”

“Are you going to leave me behind?”

“Can we talk about this in the morning?” Robert asked.

Mom sighed. “But then, it’s none of my business. Do what you want, Robert. You always have.” She shook her head, saying, “I’ll be in my room if you need me,” and walked out, closing the door with a soft click.

Robert stood and took a step towards the door as she walked out before stopping. He stopped, looked at his hands, and sat back down. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table until the knuckles went white. 

Will took a few steps closer. “Dad?”

He sighed and let go of the table, spinning in his chair to face the piano. He was greeted by Will’s glossy, smiling face. His father winced and stood, then walked to the instrument and looked down at the photograph, Will following behind him. Robert paused.

“Why are you so afraid?” Will asked. “Why are you so scared of me?”

His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on the piano as he looked down at the photograph, finally gripping the edge of the frame and making as if to turn it over. Will crept up behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him back. 

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “You don’t get to run from me this time.” Will looked downwards. “I know you know who I am.”

“No.” Robert tried to look backwards, to see who was pinning him. “Let go,” he protested.

“I’ve always been here, you just have to see me. See me,” Will insisted.

Dad, because this was the man who had taught Will how to count on all ten fingers and all his toes, looked down at the photograph again. The corner of his mouth curled upwards in what was barely a smile. “God, kid, I loved you so much.” His voice cracked. “So damn much.”

“I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

Dad set down the photograph and let out a breath. “Will.” Will smiled as he faded and vanished from sight.

The second life of Will Hillam ended on May 26th, 2014, at 7:33 pm.


End file.
